Giving Up
by createadisaster
Summary: Peter's not acting, James isn't caring, and Remus isn't noticing. Sirius is giving up. Non-magic AU, suicide as a major theme.


"I didn't know. God, how could I not have known?"

"It's not your fault- I didn't have any idea. You?"

"None in the slightest. I could have sworn…"

"I never had thought…"

"I didn't know, fuck, I just didn't know!"

"No, stop, it's not..."

"God, what if he isn't okay?"

"He'll be okay! We'll just- we know now."

"We should have known before."

"We did."

At first, Remus wouldn't have been able to tell who was saying what. His words mixed with James' mixed with Peter's and he wasn't sure who was speaking at any given point, because all of them were saying the exact same thing. They were saying they didn't know, that it wasn't any of their faults, that none of them were to blame.

But that simple admission that they _did _know, that it _was _their fault, that they _were_ to blame, was all him. His words cut through the overlapping voices of the other two men, and they looked at him with the same expression he was sure he wore himself. Each of them knew that each of them knew, and that none of them had done anything about it, and all three men hated each other a little bit for it.

Remus couldn't be sure what James or Peter was thinking, but his own thoughts had only one direction—_he could have stopped this_. Remus Lupin could have stopped this and he didn't, and now his heart was missing and suddenly the room was too hot. He tugged at his tie; he was going to just loosen it to let himself fucking _breathe _for just a second but instead he just tugged it off and twisted it in his hands and he remembered it was Sirius' tie that he was wearing today, and he had the other man's leather jacket on his shoulders and fuck, he had to get out of that too. He shrugged it off and held it in his lap, his whole body limp but his fingers clenching, holding onto that jacket like it was all he'd ever have.

He could have stopped this. He _should _have stopped this. He should have pieced it together and figured out what Sirius had been pleading for him to know. It wouldn't have been any more obvious if the other man had just screamed it at him.

But Remus probably wouldn't have heard him even if he had.

"_Moony?"_

_Remus didn't look up._

"_Moony, I really… can we talk?"_

_He nodded, but he didn't look, and he knew it wasn't enough. Knowing it didn't make him give any more._

"_Oh God, please look at me. Please."_

_Sirius sounded like he was about to cry—Moony gave him a fleeting look. Sirius caught his gaze and held it, and Remus had to look away._

"_Do you even love me anymore?"_

_Remus nodded, a short jerk of his head, but Sirius didn't acknowledge it, and when he glanced back, he saw that now it was Sirius who was keeping his eyes away. He still didn't bother to speak._

"_It's like… Fuck, Remus, I'm drowning here and you just… we're not important to you anymore."_

_His voice cracked. There was so much emotion right there—the breaking of a voice, the breaking of a heart, the breaking of a man._

"_Please, oh God, Remus, just tell me I'm wrong. Remus, my Remus, please…"_

_Sirius always used his name too much when he got upset._

"_Tell me you still love me. Tell me not to go."_

_He didn't._

_Sirius left._

Remus didn't know what had happened to him, he didn't know when he had become such a shit. He and Sirius had been friends since they were children, fucking good as married since they were in their twenties. They'd made it to thirty together, all four of the Marauders just as they had been supposed to… He didn't know when Sirius started being unhappy. He didn't know when he stopped noticing. He should have noticed.

Actually- he did notice. There were a thousand times he noticed that something was wrong, and a thousand times he didn't speak. He hadn't known how to make anything better… so he hadn't tried. He had known that Sirius wasn't okay. He had known that he needed him. He hadn't been there.

This was his fault.

"Excuse me, sirs?"

All three men looked up sharply at the sound of a woman's voice; Remus wished she'd had even the slightest bit of emotion because god damn it he had no idea what to expect from her words. He didn't want professionalism. He wanted to know what was happening.

"He's awake," she said, and Remus would take what he would get. "Before you go in there… a suicide attempt is a very serious thing. He's not stable right now, and you need to remember that. I strongly suggest that he be at least temporarily admitted to our adult psychiatric ward-"

"_No_," Remus said, and he couldn't remember being more insistent about anything. He was not going to give him up that easily. He was not going to let anyone take him away from him. Temporary was too long. He was going to help him himself. He had fucked up so thoroughly; he had nearly lost his Sirius. That was not fucking acceptable, and he was going to fix it.

This was his fault, and he knew it.

It used to be that Remus would come up behind Sirius and drape his arms over his shoulders whenever he was the slightest bit sad, pressing his lips to his ear and murmuring in this fucking way that he had, "Oh honey, what's the matter?" It used to be that he'd absentmindedly touch him, kiss his hand or rub his neck or rest a hand on whatever joint happened to be closest. It used to be that he'd laugh at him and call him an idiot in the most affectionate way possible, with that tone that they both knew meant "I love you." It used to be that they'd waste hours together, laughing and talking and kissing and forgetting that there was anything else in the world.

It used to be that Sirius knew he was loved.

Not just because he said so, because he didn't. Not often. Neither Sirius nor Remus was the type to throw around those three words, and it was fine for the both of them. They didn't need to say it so often that it lost its meaning, because with every touch and smile and kiss, they proved it.

But now Remus didn't touch, and Sirius didn't smile. Sirius was begging Remus to see him and Remus wasn't looking, and now he had come so damn close to losing him that he still wasn't breathing quite right.

James and Peter were looking at Remus expectantly, like it was his turn to get up. It took him longer than he cared to admit to realize that it was. He stood and said quietly, "You guys can come in, too." That was clearly the permission they were waiting for, and with feet like lead, they shuffled into the room.

Sirius was looking at them. His arms were bandaged; that was the first thing Peter saw. His eyes were furious; that was the first thing James did.

What Remus saw was what he'd been hiding from for years now. A pathetic imitation of his Sirius, skin stretched too tightly over bone, face gaunt, body tired, heart broken. He saw what Sirius had been so desperate for him to, and it made him want to run out of the room and be sick. This ghost of a person _was _his Sirius; this was what he watched happen and didn't stop. This was his fault.

"I don't want you here."

All three men were struck by the finality and the harshness of those words, and they looked at him, and not one of them listened. James claimed the chair on one side of him, Remus the other. Peter stood by the foot of the bed, and all three of them just looked at him, and Sirius closed his tired eyes.

"I don't want you here," he repeated, his voice shaky this time. All three of them knew that voice, they knew what he sounded like when he was about to cry, and they at least had the decency to pretend that they didn't. "I don't fucking want you here!"

"I know, mate." James was the one to speak, and Sirius whipped his head towards him, his eyes mad with pain and loneliness and just _grief_, grief that he was so consistently unhappy, grief that he was still alive, grief that he couldn't even fucking kill himself right— "But I think I speak for all of us when I say we're done not being here when you need us."

"Glad it fucking suits you now," Sirius sneered at him, "I'm simply thrilled that _now _it's convenient for you to give a shit—" Remus touched his hand. Sirius yanked it away. "Don't you fucking touch me." Remus, eyes filled with tears, couldn't bring himself to speak. He just gave him a sad smile and rested his hand on the back of Sirius' neck the way he once had, the way he used to.

The two of them used to be easy as breathing. He hadn't realized Sirius had been trying so hard.

Remus closed his eyes for just a moment, then sat up, leaned over, and kissed Sirius gently on the temple. "I'm sorry," he murmured into his ear, his words a nearly inaudible plea for forgiveness, for one more fucking chance. "I'm so sorry." Sirius visibly tensed, hunching his shoulders over and drawing his knees up to his chest.

"Don't touch me," he repeated miserably, his voice barely there. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck, _don't you fucking touch me!"

Sirius was the one well known for being bad at listening, but Remus had his days, and he sat down on the side of the bed and wrapped his arms tight around the man he loved. "I'm so sorry," he told him once more, a whisper meant just for him, and James and Peter both felt like intruders.

Sirius didn't want to respond, he didn't want to show a single goddamn thing to these people, but he had felt so alone for so long that finally having Remus' arms around him again… All he could do was lean into his embrace and close his eyes. He'd been holding it in a long time, but finally—Sirius wept.

_It was hard to cry and drive a motorcycle at the same time. Sirius had needed to pull over a couple times to manage it. There was the idea that he could just drive into a tree, make it look like an accident, but no. He was not going to give up without trying all he could._

_He'd given Remus his last opportunity, and he hadn't taken it. But he had James and Peter, and he owed it to them to try and hold it together for one more night. So he drove to James' place through the wind and the snow and the dark, and he prayed he'd be quick about answering the door because fuck it was getting cold._

_There was no answer to the first time he knocked, so he waited five minutes and tried again. The fucking lights were on; Sirius knew he was home. But the knocks went ignored, and fuck, he had to try again, he needed him. Sirius had been saying goodbye to everyone he loved every time he saw them, just in case, and he had a feeling about tonight._

_James opened the door, and Sirius smiled weakly, giving the best he could manage, but he didn't get far._

"_Listen, mate, I'd love to hang out tonight, but Lily and I are a little busy right now, so how about you just—call tomorrow? We'll get drinks after work. Right, have a good night—" And the door closed and Sirius knocked again, three hard fast raps of his knuckles on the door, fucking desperate for just five minutes with his brother before it was too late._

_Sirius had always been strong, but he could only be brave for so long. _

They all were fucking staring at him, like he was a goddamn animal in a zoo, and he hated it. When they were younger, he'd liked to be looked at. He'd loved being the center of attention; he'd loved having all eyes on him. There was a lot that had changed for Sirius Black.

The four of them sat without words for a long time, with Sirius choking on his sobs, trying to keep them in, and Remus with his arms tight around him, and James with those fucking eyes and that hand on his shoulder and Peter biting his lip like he always did when he wanted to make something better but hadn't the slightest idea where to begin.

These three men were Sirius' family, but fuck, he hated all of them right now. He hated Remus for not noticing, he hated James for not caring, he hated Peter for not acting. He hated himself for being so goddamn selfish that he thought he was worth any of their attention.

There were some days where he was convinced that it would be easiest to just let that hate consume him, the same way he'd had days where he let the sadness consume him, and there hadn't been a day where he thought he'd be swallowed whole by happiness in a long, long time. Lately, everything was hatred and sadness and he didn't know how to get out of it.

Their silence dragged on for what felt like a thousand years, and then Remus said quietly, "What else haven't I seen?"

Sirius rather thought he preferred the silence, and so he didn't answer.

_Peter. Peter was his last shot. Remus hadn't bothered, James hadn't seen. Peter might. Peter always had been better about that than the other two; he had always been the one who had a weird way of just knowing. And so Sirius called him, and called him again, and again and again, sitting in a parking lot with snow in his hair and his ears freezing off with his bike parked next to him, and he just kept fucking calling him._

_He left a voicemail the first time, pleading for him to call him back. After that, he just hung up when Peter's message started, and tried again._

"_Jesus Christ, Sirius, it's three in the morning, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Peter, at least, had the fucking decency to sound concerned, even under the annoyance at being woken and the bleariness of sleep._

_Sirius nearly burst into tears at the tone. Grumpy and groggy or not, there was worry there, and it felt like forever since someone had worried and he was about to speak, but- "I'm real sorry, mate, really, but Marlene is bitching about- no, no, sweetie, not bitching, sorry- is very reasonably asking me to hang up the phone and come back to bed. I'm sorry. I'll call you the second I can, okay?"_

_Peter didn't hang up, he waited for an answer, but Sirius didn't trust himself to speak, so he ended the call and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He stood up and put on his helmet and climbed back onto his bike. It wasn't as though he didn't know any people besides those three men, but they were… they were his family, they were what counted. _

_And if none of them had seen him start spiraling fucking years ago, he could hardly expect anyone else to._

Remus' question hung in the air, but Sirius wasn't going to speak. He just fucking wasn't. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Remus let go, stood up, and then leaned over to press a kiss on the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, "I swear to God I'm not."

"Wish you would," Sirius snapped, and there was a sick little part of Remus that wanted to smile. He'd rather Sirius be angry than sad. At least the fire was back when he was angry. A shred of the Sirius he knew was there, and there wasn't anything to smile about when he was telling him to go away, especially given _why _he was telling him to go away, but that tiny spark was enough for Remus to cling to.

He was going to make this better.

"I know," he said quietly, and at least he knew better than to _actually_ smile, because there was nothing Sirius hated more than people making light of when he was angry, and Remus was not planning on patronizing him, intentional or otherwise.

"Then why don't you?" He pushed James' hand away; James replaced it right where it had been. Sirius shoved it off again with far more force than he needed, and sent a snarl that was practically feral towards his best friend. James held his hands up in defeat, palms towards Sirius, then dropped them both in his lap.

Sirius turned on Remus, then; he'd sat back down and slipped his arms back around him and Sirius was not fucking having it. He untangled himself from the embrace and shoved Remus off the bed entirely, looking away when he fell to the floor.

Remus stood back up, starting to reach out towards him, but apparently thinking better of it, and at least there was that, because Sirius couldn't fucking stand being touched by any of them right now.

"I want you to leave," Sirius all but whispered, his voice barely even there in this silent white room.

"I know," Remus repeated, his heart heavy. "I know."

_He'd long since forgotten how to be happy. Tonight told him there wasn't really much of a reason for him to try and fail any longer. Suicide was such an ugly word, but it had been rolling around in his head for over a year now._

_Soaked to the bone with snow, he arrived at a cheap motel and booked a room for the night. He spoke as little as possible, exhausted and lonely and sad, so mind numbingly sad that all he wanted was to sleep and never wake up._

_He hated himself for thinking it. Sirius Black was a proud man and a smart man and a brave man. but he was still _only _a man, and he had felt so empty for so long that he was sure that he couldn't stand another day._

_The walk from the parking lot to the room was not a long one, but his feet dragged, and a million years must have passed before he finally made it inside and shut the door behind him. Red numbers on the clock told him it was about four now, and he decided he'd sleep. He'd decide in the morning, he'd give himself a night to change his mind. He'd give Remus a night to realize, he'd let Peter call him back, he'd allow James a chance to fix it._

_He only took off his coat and shoes before curling up in the center of the bed and, for the first time in a long time, falling asleep with ease._

_There was something almost like peace when he awoke in the afternoon to find nothing on his phone. He'd known longer than he cared to admit that he was going to die this way—alone. There was a passing flicker of guilt for the owner of the motel. But he didn't have anywhere else to go, and he wasn't waiting any longer._

_Sirius pushed his sleeves up. His arms were already covered in lines, old and new, some white and faded, others still angry and red. He kept his arms covered most of the time. If anyone had noticed, they hadn't asked. He was used to the fire by now, he was used to slicing through his skin. He was used to the blood._

_He wasn't used to the idea that he'd never see Remus again._

_But he didn't believe in an afterlife, so once it was over, it wouldn't matter. Besides, Remus wouldn't miss him. Remus wouldn't care. His world would go on without Sirius Black._

_And with that thought in his mind, Sirius shook and sobbed and let a razorblade cut through his skin for the last time._


End file.
